


Signal the Sirens, Rally the Troops

by funeralofhearts



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Other, crack fic to the high heavens, i don't know what came over me, i just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funeralofhearts/pseuds/funeralofhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis goes to a concert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signal the Sirens, Rally the Troops

**Author's Note:**

> crack pairing, brotp type of thing. idk what to label this.
> 
> so idk i just think they would make great friends and this really doesn’t have a plot, well it did when i started writing it like a month and a half ago and now well it doesn’t. the ending is kind of rubbish too. oh well.

The venue was small, well smaller than what Louis was used to, and dark. He would barely be able to see his hand if he held it a couple inches away from his face. The darkness was fading a little bit ahead of him though, the closer he got to the stage the more light there was bleeding into and mixing with the pitch black of the dark behind him.

The venue was also hot, all of the bodies pressed together created a stuffy, uncomfortable atmosphere, and he felt like he couldn’t get a breath of fresh air. He would manage though because he promised his friend he would be here.

It wasn’t all a huge rain cloud of despair and horrible things though. There were a lot of things he enjoyed about concerts. Louis loved the feeling of unity, the feeling that the stranger standing next to you is in this building for the same reason you are. He loves the electric excitement buzzing through the air, so strong you can almost reach out and touch it.

Yeah so it wasn’t all bad, he got to listen to good music and he got to see one of his best friends perform. 

*

Louis was being started at. He should have seen this coming, but he thought the change in his style would be enough to throw people off. Instead of cuffed jeans and Peter Pan collars, he was wearing the tightest black jeans he owned (okay they were Harry’s, but that’s neither here nor there) adorned with rips in the knees, and a loose white tee shirt with the sleeves rolled up; the shirt was big in the neck and his collar bones were poking out of the top. He had rimmed his icy blues with a smudge of kohl, and to Louis he looked like a different person. But to the other people around him he apparently still looked like him, or that’s what he was getting from the staring they were doing. Maybe they thought he just looked like an odd punk version of Louis Tomlinson, which is essentially who he was at the moment. 

He wanted to get away from the curious gazes, but at the same time he didn’t want to leave his place in the shadows. He was going over all the pros and cons of the situation when he noticed a girl walking up to him with a knowing glint in her eyes. His mind was made up in that moment and he started to push his way through the crowd towards the barricade at the front. Manners were thrown to the wind; he just had to get away even if that meant a bitchy glare or two (or three or four) were thrown his way. 

The chipped black railing was within his reach so he grabbed on and pulled his way through the rest of the tiny teenage girls in his way. Louis let out a sigh of relief until he realized he was still being stared at (gawked at more like, like really who the fuck did he think he was?) and that uncomfortable wishy washy feeling settled into his stomach once again. 

He felt a tiny tap on his shoulder and was hesitant to turn around, “Uh, hey, do you think I could squeeze in next to you? I kind of can’t see over you…,” was what he was met with though, not screaming and unintelligible garble like he was expecting.

“Sure, I think I can manage to move over a tad,” he replied to the tiny brunette as he shuffled his way to the left.

“Thanks,” she beamed up at him, “I’m so excited, this is like the closest I’ve ever been. What about you?”

_She’s sweet_ , he thought, “Oh, umm, no I’ve been this close a couple of times.”

Her eyes grew impossibly large and punched his arm, “Lucky. Lord, this is going to be great, Bring Me The Horizon really know how to put on a show.”

“Speaking of them, how many other bands are on the bill?” Louis never really bothered to look up the supporting bands. 

“Err, two I believe,” she replied while nodding her head to whatever song was blasting throughout the speaker (how she could hear it Louis had no idea, it was bloody loud with everyone talking) and that was the end of their conversation.

*

Two support bands, several mosh pits, and three kicks to the head later, Bring Me The Horizon took the stage. Louis thought his lungs where going to come out of his mouth with how hard he was being shoved into the metal barrier and he almost passed out twice. He had forgotten just how wild these kind of gigs get and he was sort of upset he didn’t do this more often. 

At one point Oli made a face at him to acknowledge his presence and the tiny brunette next to him had a mental breakdown. He felt kind of sorry for her.

The band left the stage and not even a minute later Louis was getting a text telling him to go to the backstage entrance. He had considered taking the girl standing next to him, and then came to his senses. _Nope_ , he thought, _I do not need to deal with that tonight._

Once backstage Louis had a tall, lanky, tattooed man hanging off his back, “Hey mate, ‘ow was the show?”

“Oi! Oli, you wanna get the fuck down?”

“Fine, but answer the question you twat.”

“The show was great, like always,” he giggled, “Most fun I’ve had in weeks actually.”

“Why is tha’? Because you could go out and not be mobbed?”

Louis nodded, “Exactly that.”

“Well we need to make you over and sneak you out more often,” Oli smirked, “Maybe you can drag the boyfriend with you next time.”

“We’ll have to do something about his hair, don’t you think?”

Oli nodded, “Fucker’s hair is crazy. Now let’s go get pissed and call ‘im”


End file.
